Medicated Bliss
by blue mood blue
Summary: Strexcorp makes sure that Kevin can live a happy, hazy sort of life. Kevin thinks everyone deserves to be as happy as he is. [See beginning note for list of content warnings.]


Medicated Bliss

Summary: Strexcorp makes sure that Kevin can live a happy, hazy sort of life. Kevin thinks that everyone deserves to be as happy as he is.

Warnings: blood, gore, self-mutilation, mutilation of others, non-consenting drug use

[If you believe this deserves a higher rating, please let me know.]

* * *

First thing in the morning was the medicine, prepared in a little syringe on a napkin in the bathroom for him when he woke up. "Apply directly to the preferred wrist," the instructions told him, but he didn't need reminding anymore. It was a very simple process and Kevin was used to needles.

An intern delivered the second dose at noon, either slipped onto his desk before a break or applied directly to his neck out of consideration when a news story or feature ran too long. He usually needed a pick-me-up around three, a smaller dose to kick him out of the haze of lethargy that fogged him up. It always felt a bit like cold water trying to seep through a warm, fluffy blanket. He didn't want to get sick; illness would mean a lack of productivity, and that would just be wasteful.

Kevin didn't think much about the past, because all things passed eventually, and those things behind him couldn't be changed and were only distractions from all of the things he could be doing now. But if there was one thing he looked back on fondly, it was the first time he'd received an injection from a Strexcorp representative. He hadn't completely understood what was happening at the time - it was very difficult to focus on anything, with the heavy weight of lethargy pinning him to the ground, coaxing his organs into shutdown - but as soon as the Strex brand pharmaceuticals hit his bloodstream, he was more awake and alive than ever! It was an amazing experience, and it could only have been minutes, or it felt like minutes, before he was covered in blood, spatters of it all over his shirt, up to his elbows and dripping from his fingertips onto the floor, and from his hair, and from his mouth, filled with the soft, elastic texture of intestines, more entrails in his hands, the gristle of extracting them making them slippery and difficult to hold onto and the smell of iron wafting warmly from the sticky pools spreading all around his feet...

And then Strexcorp offered him a job at the radio station, and it was very nearly an absolutely perfect day.

Kevin was a little embarrassed to admit that he was not always the best at his job. One day when he hadn't upheld the expected standard of enthusiasm for someone representing Strexcorp, a new set of instructions was left on his bathroom counter. "A pleasant attitude is necessary for a pleasant and productive work environment." There was a tidy little knife next to it, and wasn't it just so reflective of Strexcorp's faith in the work ethic of its employees that they expected Kevin to take care of the job himself?

The edges still leaked a little. He sewed them up, but the top and bottom didn't seem to hold together quite right, and the thread sometimes broke or cut through. He couldn't remember a time when he'd had a more genuine smile, though, and it really was a badge of pride. What could be better than a permanent smile?

The last dose was right before supper, and then later there were pills to make sure that he slept soundly. Dreamless sleep really was more restful, because when Kevin dreamed it was only ever about faces that he wasn't sure he knew but seemed familiar anyway. They weren't anyone in Desert Bluffs, that was for certain, and thinking about them was distracting and upsetting. Strexcorp made sure that he didn't have to.

Most days were just exactly like that, with a routine and a projected outcome, lovely and warm under the dependable sun in their pleasant desert community. On other days, the dosage levels were different, or the liquid in the syringe was a different color. Those would work for a while, and everything would be fine until it suddenly, horribly wasn't. Kevin could feel things, and everything hurt, and his smile was a grotesque horror staring back at him from a mirror, a reflection that must have been lying to him. There was blood everywhere and people were smiling all the time, covered in it, reveling in it. He could tic off the names of all of the faces of the people he shouldn't know.

They usually found him around noon on those days, hidden away in a dry corner of his house or walking into the barren desert outside of town. They gave him pills and injections, and the lost time was made up later in the week.

Kevin didn't think about it. Those days passed. They were a distraction.

And why linger on unpleasant things? Kevin was a happy person – wildly, ecstatically happy, and eager to share that happiness with others. Not many people were as happy as Kevin, and sometimes he was a little too exuberant, and hugged a little too tightly until ribs cracked or throats collapsed, but he was just _so happy_, you know? It could be hard, to control that much unbridled joy.

And it upset him, when the man from the radio station in the neighboring town was less happy about the new management than him. Kevin had really been looking forward to working with him, but the man wouldn't even take his medicine, and that was really unhealthy. He was really rather rude about the entire thing, but a Strexcorp representative just told him to be patient, because Strex had a lot of plans and it was only a matter of time, really. Kevin was a patient person, usually, and the prospect of a new friend was something worth waiting for.

He really couldn't stand the frowning, though. The man frowned often, about any number of things, but especially when he looked at Kevin. He frowned very deeply when he looked at Kevin, and Kevin couldn't understand why. Kevin had a lovely smile; it was his very best feature. But the frowning gave Kevin little pinpricks of cold doubt. There couldn't be anything wrong with his smile, he told himself while he stared in the mirror. It was a perfectly lovely smile.

It was jealousy, Kevin decided, and he could help with that because he really wanted to be friends with the man from the other radio station, and what better way was there to make friends than to give him something he really wanted? So one night, right after the man signed off, Kevin picked up his tidy little knife, a needle, and some thread, and locked the door of the booth behind him.

He hoped he was better at sewing by now.

His new friend's smile really was quite lovely when Kevin was finished, only leaking a little bit, and the man would be much better off, really, with a pleasant and productive attitude. Kevin tried not to be jealous, because you should feel happy for friends when something really good happens to them.

Instead he ran a hand through his friend's hair, which was very smooth when the tacky wetness on Kevin's hand didn't catch and stick. "First thing in the morning, they'll bring you your medicine and some instructions. It's very simple, just a prick of the wrist…"

* * *

A/N: So just a bit different than what I usually do... *clears throat* Although really it was only a matter of time, Kevin is a very intriguing character after all.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

(Disclaimer - Welcome to Night Vale and its characters belong to those creative people over at Commonplace Books)


End file.
